Jealousy and Envy

Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo.

The infernal serpent; he it was, whose guile

Happiness is seeing the muscular lifeguard all the girls were admiring leave the beach hand in hand with another muscular lifeguard.

O! beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But, O! what damned minutes tells he o’er Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet soundly loves!

You go above and beyond them: but the higher you climb, the smaller you appear to the eye of envy. And he who flies is hated most of all.

Then back to the party! and femaled you jealously as if to discover whence and there should escape, what?

Envy was once considered to be one of the seven deadly sins before it became one of the most admired virtues under its new name, “social justice.”

To cure jealousy is to see it for what it is, a dissatisfaction with self.

An envious heart makes a treacherous ear.

A show of envy is an insult to oneself.

Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.

Whenever a friend succeeds, a little something in me dies.

Jealousy is always born with love but does not always die with it.

Jealousy is all the fun you think they had.

We often pride ourselves on even the most criminal passions, but envy is a timid and shame-faced passion we never dare acknowledge.

Few men have the strength of character to rejoice in a friend’s success without a touch of envy.

Men of profound sadness betray themselves when they are happy: they have a mode of seizing upon happiness as though they would choke and strangle it, out of jealousy--ah, they know only too well that it will flee from them!

Nothing is as obnoxious as other people's luck.

Jealousy is never satisfied with anything short of an omniscience that would detect the subtlest fold of the heart.

How all the other passions fleet to air, As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac’d despair, And shuddering fear, and green-ey’d jealousy.

O curse of marriage! That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites. I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses.

Jealousy in romance is like salt in food. A little can enhance the savor, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life-threatening.

Envy is a littleness of soul, which cannot see beyond a certain point, and if it does not occupy the whole space, feels itself excluded.

Every time that I think of the crucifixion of Christ, I commit the sin of envy.